


Holly Potter and the Philosopher's Stone

by Kanako_Hime



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Follows most of original tale, Gen, Happy Childhood, Original Characters - Freeform, Twins, no dursleys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 22:39:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3335390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kanako_Hime/pseuds/Kanako_Hime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Holly Potter, two perfectly ordinary children, learn of their true heritage on their eleventh birthday, and have been invited to attend Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. They soon find, however, that the wizarding world is far more dangerous than they would have imagined, and they quickly learn that not all wizards are good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Outside a perfectly ordinary house in a perfectly ordinary village in Britain, a tabby cat sat upon a wall. A man appeared, the cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed.

No-one like this man had ever been seen in the sleepy village of Swyndale.

He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least once.

This man was Albus Dumbledore. He seemed to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him.

He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known."

Dumbledore set off down the street toward the house on the corner, toward the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it.

"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."

He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun.

"Good evening, Professor Dumbledore," she replied tersely, falling into step beside him. After a moment, she asked, "Are the rumours true, Albus?"

"I'm afraid so, Professor," Dumbledore replied heavily, "The good...and the bad."

"And the children?" McGonagall queried.

"Hagrid is bringing them."

"Do you think it wise to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"

"Ah, Professor, I would trust Hagrid with my life," Dumbledore said.

A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky - and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them. If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it.

He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least three times as wide. He had long bushy black hair and a beard hid most of his face; hands the size of hubcaps, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his arms, he was holding a Moses basket.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said with a nod, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got them, sir."

"No problems, I trust, Hagrid?" Dumbledore questioned.

"No, sir. Little tykes fell asleep as we were flyin' over Bristol," Hargid confirmed as he handed Dumbledore the basket. "Try not to wake 'em," he said quietly.

Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over to peep in the rim of the basket. Inside, just visible, were two babies, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over the boy's forehead, on the right-hand side, they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning. The little girl had the same scar, but hers was on the left-hand side, and she had tufts of dark-red hair.

"Is that-?" whispered Professor McGonagall.

"Yes," Dumbledore said. Dumbledore took the basket in his arms and turned toward the house on the corner - the house where Professor McGonagall had waited for Dumbledore earlier.

"Albus, do you really think its safe, leaving him here?" McGonagall questioned as they walked. "Ms Potter has changed since school; she's far more reckless then before. She really is-"

"The only family they have," Dumbledore interrupted gently. "The Dursley's refused to take them."

McGonagall swallowed a noise of outrage as they stopped outside the neat little cottage.

"These children will be famous," she whispered "There wont be a child in our world who won't know their names!"

"Exactly. They're better off growing up away from all that." Dumbledore paused, then amended, "Until they are ready."

Hagrid coughed and sniffled.

"There, there, Hagrid. It's not really good-bye, after all," Dumbledore said soothingly.

"But I c-c-can't stand it- Lily an' James dead- an' the poor little kids off ter live among Muggles-"

"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore opened the little white gate and walked to the front door. Carefully shifting the basket until it was cradled in one arm securely, Dumbledore rapped smartly on the door.

A few moments passed, then the hall light was switched on, and the door slowly opened to reveal a youngish woman in her mid-twenties peeping out through the crack in the door. When her brown eyes saw the silver-haired man, the door opened fully, and Dumbledore pressed the basket into her arms. With a nod, the woman smiled and closed the door softly as Dumbledore turned and swept down the garden path to his companions. For a full minute, the three of them stood and looked at the now quiet house.

"Well," Dumbledore said finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."

"Yeah," Hagrid said in a very muffled voice, "G'night, Professor McGonagall - Professor Dumbledore, sir."

Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.


	2. Chapter 2

"Happy birthday!" a voice sang, as Holly Potter woke with a start. Aunt Marigold stood in the doorway, a big grin on her face. "How does it feel being eleven!"

"Honestly, Auntie? I feel exactly like I did last night," her niece teased, stretching and running a hand through the bird's nest that she called hair. Aunt Marigold stuck her tongue out at me.

"Don't sass  _me_  young lady!" she grinned. "It might be your birthday, but I'm still the ultimate disciplinary figure here. Now,go wake up Harry. I'm making pancakes, and then you can both go to the beach while I clean up. A friend of mine is coming to see us today, with a surprise for you two."

"Really?"

"Yes. Now, hop to it!"

"Yes ma'am!" Holly mock-saluted as her aunt swatted at her, then ran giggling down the hall, pushing the door to Harry's room open.

"Wake up, Potter! We're eleven today!" she screeched, poking him.

"Urgh, go away Hol," he moaned, batting her hand away ineffectually. Holly frowned, putting her hands on her hips. He was only ever like this when-

"Did you have a weird dream again?" she asked curiously. Harry finally turned over and rolled onto his back, his green eyes staring at the ceiling.

"There was a flying motorcycle." He paused. "I've a feeling that I've had that dream before."

Holly nodded.

"You have." She paused. "Come to think of it, I think I have too."

"Is he up yet?" Aunt Marigold shouted up the stairs.

"Nearly!" the twins chorused.

"Well, get a move on! There's only so long you can keep a pancake perfect!"

They both had to muffle our laughter at their dramatic aunt. Harry got slowly out of bed , while Holly darted back along the hallway to her room to get dressed. When they were presentable, they went down the stairs into the canary-yellow kitchen. The table was set with the best willow-patterned china, with a small bunch of chrysanthemums in a small vase. Just in front of the vase was a picture of a black-haired man with his arms around a red-haired woman, who was looking up into his eyes. He, in turn, gazed at her adoringly.

"Hi Mum, hi Dad," Holly whispered, pressing a finger to her lips and then touching it lightly on the glass that covered the picture. "We're eleven already. Wish you were here."

"Talking to your parents again, poppet?" Aunt Marigold asked, putting a plate of golden-brown pancakes in front of them. Holly nodded, her cheeks flaming as Harry grinned. Aunt Marigold's hazel eyes softened, and she put a hand on each of their shoulders. "They'd be so proud of you, pet," she murmured, "Both of you." After a moment, she clapped her hands together. "Right! Start eating and then get out of my kitchen until I call you!"

Both Potter children cracked a grin, then tucked into the cooled-down pancakes with gusto. As soon as they'd finished, Aunt Marigold whisked the plates away and then shooed them out the front door.

"Go on, get!" she laughed, tossing her caramel-coloured hair as she disappeared back inside.

Once they had gone outside, they began to race to the quiet beach, Harry emerging as the victor. They collapsed, giggling, on the sand. Harry started dozing, while Holly dug through the sand, looking for shells, and eventually, when he was asleep, partially burying her brother. After a while, she sat back into the sand, her eyes resting on her brother. Both of them had thin faces, pale skin and slender hands, but that was where the similarities ended. Harry had unruly black hair that was so happy, it stood up to cheer and bright green eyes that were shielded by a pair of round glasses; Holly had auburn-waves that were mostly controllable, hazel-brown eyes, and hadn't needed glasses since she was seven. The only thing that they both agreed was their finest feature was a very thin scar on each of their foreheads that was shaped like a bolt of lightning. They'd had them as long as they could remember, and the first question Holly could ever remember her brother asking Aunt Marigold was how they had gotten them.

"You got them around the time your parents died," she had said, averting her eyes. "You'll understand when you're older."

 _When you're older_  - that was a phrase Aunt Marigold used frequently when either of them had asked about their parent's deaths. Holly turned her head slightly, ears pricking up when she heard a faintly shrill whistle.

"Come on Potter, Auntie's calling!" Holly bellowed into his ear, trying to dig him out of the sand. He woke up, and looked totally flummoxed as to why he was covered in sand. Eventually, he was cleaned up - mostly - and they both ran madly  _up_ the hill towards the cottage.

"We're here Auntie!" Harry called breathlessly as they burst through the front door.

"I'm outside!" a voice called back faintly. Entering the kitchen, Holly was squirming with curiosity as to what the surprise was before Harry pushed open the door to the garden - and they both froze. A giant of a man was sitting in the garden. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, his eyes glinting like black beetles under all the hair. He was talking animatedly with Aunt Marigold.

"Haven' changed a bit Marigold," he was saying, "'Cept the hair, o' course."

"I preferred having a bob," Aunt Marigold replied, smiling. "Easier to manage around the twins."

"An' here's the two 'emselves!" the giant said. Said twins looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw that the beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile.

"Las' time I saw you two, you was only babies," the giant continued. "Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh've got yer mum's eyes Harry. An' you Holly! Spittin' image o' yer mum!"

The twins exchanged looks.

Who  _was_  this man?


	3. Chapter 3

"Anyway - Harry, Holly," the giant continued, "Got something for ya. 'Fraid I might have sat on it at some point! I imagine that it'll taste fine just the same. Baked it myself, words and all."

From an inside pocket of his huge overcoat, he pulled a slightly squashed box. Harry opened it, his fingers trembling as Holly peeked over his shoulder. Inside was a large, sticky chocolate cake with 'Happe Birthdae' written on it in green icing.

"Thanks!" Harry managed, nudging his sister.

Holly was going to say thank you, she really was, but the words got lost on the way to her mouth, and what she said instead was, "Who are you?"

The giant chuckled.

"Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. Course, you'll know all about Hogwarts."

"Um - no," Holly said, shame-faced. Hagrid looked shocked.

"Sorry," Harry said quickly.

"No?" Hagrid repeated slowly, turning to give Aunt Marigold a beady glare which she ignored. "No? Blimey you two, didn't you ever wonder where your mum and dad learned it all?"

"Learnt what?"

"Marigold," Hagrid rumbled threateningly, as said woman sipped her tea serenely.

"Dumbledore's orders, Hagrid," she said in a sing-song voice. "Take it up with him."

"Oh," Hagrid answered, the anger seeping from him. "Well, no time like the present! Harry, Holly - you're wizards."

There was silence. Only the birds and Aunt Marigold pouring herself another cup of tea could be heard.

"W-what?" Harry gasped.

"Wizards, of course," Hagrid enthused, "Well, Holly, you're actually a witch. And thumping good 'uns, I'd wager, once you've been trained up a little."

"With parents like yours, what else would you be?" Aunt Marigold laughed fondly.

"I reckon it's about time you read your letters."

Both children stretched out a hand to take the yellowish envelope that Hagrid offered to them, addressed in emerald green ink. Holly gazed down at hers with wide eyes.

_Miss H Potter,_

_Hawthorn Cottage,_

_Swyndale,_

_Surray._

Turning the envelope over, her hands trembling, she saw a red wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H. Harry, who was several steps ahead of his sister, pulled out the letter and read out:

_Dear Mr Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have both been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1._

_We await your owl by no later than July 31._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall,_

_Deputy Headmistress._

Questions exploded inside Holly's head and she couldn't decide which to ask first.

After a few minutes, Harry stammered, "What does it mean, they await our owl?"

"Gallopin' Gorgons, that reminds me," Hagrid said, clapping a hand to his forehead, and from yet another pocket inside his overcoat he pulled out a long quill, and a roll of parchment. With his tongue between his teeth he scribbled a note, as Marigold whistled, and an owl - a real, irritable-looking owl - flew out of the trees and landed neatly beside the teapot. Hagrid rolled it up and gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak and took off.

Both Hagrid and their aunt acted as though this was completely  _normal_. Holly and Harry were gob-smacked.

"Close your mouths you two, you'll swallow a fly," Aunt Marigold giggled, setting the tea-things on the tray and bringing it into the kitchen, the twins and Hagrid following behind her. "And get your coats."

"But where are we going, Auntie?" Holly asked as she pulled on her coat. Her aunt smiled.

"Why, Diagon Alley of course."

* * *

People stared a lot at Hagrid as they walked through the little town to the station. Holly couldn't really blame them: not only was Hagrid twice as tall as anyone else, he kept pointing at normal things like parking meters and saying loudly, "See that? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?"

People stared more than ever on the train. Hagrid took up two seats and sat knitting what looked like a large yellow circus tent.

"Still got your letters?" he asked as he counted stitches. The twins held up their respective letters. "Good, there's a list there of everything you need."

Holly pulled out a second piece of paper tucked into the envelope, and read:

**HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY UNIFORM**

_First-year students will require:_

_1\. Three sets of plain work robes (black)_

_2\. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_

_3\. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_

_4\. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)_

_Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags_

**COURSE BOOKS**

**All students should have a copy of each of the following:**

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_  by Miranda Goshawk

 _A History of Magic_  by Bathilda Bagshot

 _Magical Theory_  by Adalbert Waffling

 _A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration_  by Emetic Switch

 _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_  by Phyllida Spore

 _Magical Drafts and Potions_  by Arsenius Jigger

 _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_  by Newt Scamander

 _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_  by Quentin Trimble

**OTHER EQUIPMENT**

_Wand_

_Cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)_

_Set glass or crystal phials_

_Telescope_

_Set brass scales_

_Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad_

**PARENTS/GUARDIANS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS**

"Can we buy all this in London?" Harry wondered aloud.

"If you know where to go," Aunt Marigold hummed.

* * *

The twins had never been to London before. Although Hagrid seemed to know where he was going, he was obviously not used to getting there in an ordinary way. He got stuck in the ticket barrier on the Underground, and complained loudly that the seats were too small and the trains ran too slowly.

"I don't know how the Muggles manage without magic," he huffed as they climbed a broken-down escalator that led up to a bustling road lined with shops.

"They manage just fine," Aunt Marigold said coolly as they followed him. Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crowd easily; all the Potters had to do was keep close behind him. They passed book shops and music stores, fast-food restaurants and cinemas, but nowhere that looked as if it could sell a magic wand.

"This is it," Hagrid said, coming to a halt, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."

It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, Holly doubted she would have noticed it was there. The people hurrying by didn't glance at it. Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the music shop on the other, as if they couldn't see the Leaky Cauldron at all.

"It's to keep people who don't have magic out," Aunt Marigold whispered, taking the children by the hand as they followed Hagrid inside.

For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was as bald as an egg and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped for a moment when they walked in, then resumed as Hagrid led the Potters through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but several rubbish bins and an old stack of newspapers.

"Where's me umbrella?" Hagrid mumbled to himself.

"I've got this Hagrid," Marigold said, pulling a honey-coloured wand out of her pocket and tapping the bricks above a dustbin in a clockwise manner. The bricks she had touched quivered, wriggled and in the middle, a small hole appeared growing wider and wider. A second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

"Welcome," Hagrid said with a flourish as he led them through the archway, "to Diagon Alley."

The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop.  _Cauldrons - All Sizes - Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver - Self-Stirring - Collapsible_ , said a sign hanging over them. A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying  _Eeylops Owl Emporium - Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy_. There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon and a thousand other things. A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as we passed, saying, "Dragon liver, seventeen Sickles an ounce, they're mad..."

Several young boys had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it.

"Look at it! The new Nimbus Two Thousand!" the boys gushed as the small group passed them, "It's the fastest model yet!"

"But, Hagrid, how can we pay for all this?" Harry said suddenly. "We haven't any money."

"Well there's your money, Harry. Gringotts, the Wizard Bank," Hagrid said, pointing at a lopsided snowy white building that towered over the shops. "T'aint no place safer, 'cept perhaps Hogwarts."

"Watch out for the goblins, you two," Aunt Marigold said, squeezing their hands gently. "Clever as they come goblins but not the most friendly of beasts. Best stick close to me."

As they approached, the huge bronze doors opened, ushering them into a cool, dimly lit marble hall. up the white stone steps toward him. About a hundred goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Hagrid marched straight up to the top of the hall, the Potters scuttling behind him, to the head goblin, who was writing something in a large, leather-bound book. After a moment of standing there in silence, Hagrid cleared his throat, and the goblin looked up with a vicious glare.

"The Potter children wish to make a withdrawal," Hagrid said.

"Ah," the goblin said with a cruel smile. "And do the Potters have their key?

"Yes," Aunt Marigold piped up, untangling her hand from Harry's to pull a small golden key from her pocket. The goblin nodded.

"Oh, and there's something else as well," Hagrid said in a low voice, the twins straining to hear him as he handed the goblin a letter tied with string. "Professor Dumbledore gave me this. It's about you-know-what in vault you-know-which."

The goblin's sallow skin paled slightly.

"Very well." He beckoned to a goblin further down the hall. "Griphook will escort you."

* * *

"Vault six hundred and eighty-seven," Griphook announced, as the cart pulled to a stop. He pulled himself out. "Lamp, please." Hagrid unhooked the lamp from its stand and handed it to the goblin, who toddled a few feet ahead and stood next to a large metal door. "Key please." Aunt Marigold dropped the key into his outstretched hand. The key turned in the lock, and a large clank rang through the air as the door slowly creaked open. The twins gaped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of bronze. Aunt Marigold helped them fill two pouches with the coins before the door closed again and Griphook handed back the key before walking down the corridor, calling back for the others to follow him.

"Vault seven hundred and thirteen," he announced after a while, drawing to a halt.

"What's in there, Hagrid?" Harry asked the giant quietly.

"Can't tell you, Harry," he replied just as quietly. "It's Hogwarts business. Very secret."

Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole.

"Stand back," Griphook said stretched out a bony finger and lightly ran the tip of his pointed nail down the door. The locks hissed and clanked before the door opened slowly, exposing a small grubby package tied with string. Hagrid hurried in and scooped it up, tucking into his breast pocket.

"Best not mention this to anyone, you two," he muttered. The twins, their curiosity piqued, nodded. One wild cart ride later, they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts.

"Might as well get your uniforms," Hagrid said, nodding toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, would you mind if I slipped off for a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts."

"Sure," Aunt Marigold said, ushering the kids towards the shop, "Take your time Hagrid."

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

"Can I help you dears?" she asked in a warm voice.

"These two are starting at Hogwarts in September," Aunt Marigold said fondly. "They need their uniforms."

"Got the lot here - another young lady being fitted up just now, in fact. If you would like to follow me?"

At the back of the shop, a girl with longish auburn hair was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up her long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to her, slipped a long robe over his head, and began to pin it to the right length, while Holly and her aunt sat in one of the armchairs nearby, next to a younger girl with long white-blonde hair.

"Hello," the blonde girl said in a lilting voice, "Hogwarts?"

"Both of us, yes," Holly replied, nodding to her brother. "You too?"

"Oh no," the girl replied, "I'm not old enough - but next year, maybe. I'm here with Azalea. Said I'd keep an eye out for the Nargles."

"That's nice dear," Aunt Marigold said hesitantly. Holly tilted her head.

"What's your name?"

"Oh, I'm Luna. Luna Lovegood," the girl replied dreamily, sticking out her hand for Holly to shake. "And you must be Holly Potter - and your brother Harry?"

Holly gave a start. "How did you-"

"Oh, you're quite famous you know," Luna said serenely. "I'd say everyone on our world knows your names."

"How?"

But before either twin could answer, Madam Malkin said, "The young lady is done, Adrianne," and Holly both watched as Luna's friend hopped down from the footstool.

"Well, we'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," Luna said, waving slightly as her friend paid and they left the store. Holly was plopped onto the stool beside her brother and was measured as well. Eventually, everything was fitted, wrapped and paid for, and they exited the shop.

"Is that Marigold?" a voice behind them called. They turned to see a woman standing behind them, a tall girl by her side.

"Julia?" Aunt Marigold asked, her eyes widening. "Oh my god, how are you!"

The two women embraced, much to the confusion of the three kids.

"Hey," the girl said, nodding her dark head at the twins. "Sorry about my mum. She's a bit over enthusiastic."

"Our aunt is too," Harry reassured as Holly watched the pair of women gushing over something or other. "My name's Harry, and this is my sister Holly."

"Nice to meet you," Holly said absently.

"Melanie Hartley," the girl said with a wink, glancing at her mum. "They'll be at this a while - what else do you need to get?"

"Everything except robes," Holly explained. Melanie hummed thoughtfully.

"Tell you what, I'll take you two to get your things and we can meet up with these two later. Is that alright?"

"Sure. I'll just ask our aunt," Harry said with a smile, before tugging on his aunt's sleeve and whispering in her ear. Aunt Marigold and Melanie's mother agreed to meet them back in the Leaky Cauldron when they were done, and they separated, the adults going one way, and the kids another.

They bought their school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather, books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk, books full of peculiar symbols, and a few books with nothing in them at all. Melanie wouldn't let them buy solid gold cauldrons, either ("If I was your aunt, I bet you wouldn't even ask!"), but they each got a nice set of scales for weighing potion ingredients and collapsible brass telescopes. They visited the Apothecary, which was interesting enough to make up for its disgusting smell: a mixture of bad eggs and cow poo. Barrels of slimy things stood on the floor; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hung from the ceiling. While Melanie asked the man behind the counter for a supply of some basic potion ingredients for the twins, Holly looked at some silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and Harry examined minuscule, glittery-black beetle eyes (five Knuts a scoop). Outside the Apothecary, Melanie checked their lists again.

"Just your wands left. You can get them in Ollivanders- best place for them," she explained, ushering them into a small, dimly-lit shop. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Melanie sat on to wait.

"Good afternoon," a soft voice said. All three of them jumped. An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hello," Harry said awkwardly as his sister grasped his sleeve out of habit.

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you two soon." It wasn't a question. "It seems only yesterday that your mother was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work. Your father, on the other hand, favoured a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favoured it - it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course. And that's where..." Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry's forehead with a long, white finger. "I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly, "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands... well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do..."

He shook his head and then, to the twin's obvious relief, spotted Melanie.

"Melanie! Melanie Hartley! How nice to see you again... Pear, phoenix feather, ten and three quarter inches, wasn't it?"

"It is, sir, yes," Melanie said politely.

"Of course, of course," Mr. Ollivander said, as though he were comatose, "Well, now - ladies first. Let me see." He went along the various rows, looking at all the boxes. "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand." Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes before plucking one from the shelf. "Let's see: walnut and phoenix feather, nine inches, brittle."

Holly took the wand gingerly, looking up at Mr. Ollivander expectantly.

"Give it a wave," he said impatiently. Holly nodded, then flicked the wand. Harry seemed to be grabbed by an invisible force and was sent flying into the chair, much to her horror.

"I didn't think so," Mr. Ollivander said softly, going to find another wand as Holly apologised to her brother profusely. "How about this: oak with dragon heartstring." Holly took this wand even more carefully than the last one, and flicked it, tossing her neatly boxed school supplies into the air and landing them on her brother. He'd never let her live this down at this rate. "Let's see, how about holly and unicorn hair, eleven inches?"

Holly grasped the wand, ignoring Harry's snicker. A sudden warmth spread through her fingers. She pointed the wand at the desk and flowers burst into bloom all over it.

"Excellent, excellent! Right then, Mr Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave." Harry took the wand and tried waving it, but it blasted several drawers filled with notes right out of the wall. Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand at once. "Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches."

Harry tried - but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, caused some damage in the form of an exploding vase.

"No, no, definitely not! No matter," Mr. Ollivander soothed, going to the very back of the shop to have a look. "I wonder..." Mr. Ollivander came back to the front of the shop, handing the wand to Harry with a very serious expression on his face. Harry took the wand, raising it above his head and brought it swishing down through the dusty air. A stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls.

"Curious...very curious... " Mr. Ollivander was muttering.

"Sorry," Holly asked, "but what's curious?"

Mr. Ollivander fixed them both with his pale stare.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Miss Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in Mr. Potter's wand, gave another feather - just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother - gave you that scar." The twins swallowed.

"And who owned that wand?" Harry asked. Mr. Ollivander paled.

"We do not speak his name," he whispered, "The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter. It's not always clear why. But, I think it is clear that we can expect great things from you both. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things. Terrible, yes. But great."

Holly felt a shiver run up her spine. Who was the person that gave them their scars?


End file.
